


Wind You Up

by literaryspell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryspell/pseuds/literaryspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Wind you up and make you crawl to me / Tie you up and make you call to me."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wind You Up

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** 181\. Hermione/Pansy. "Wind you up and make you crawl to me / Tie you up and make you call to me." [Louis XIV, Finding Out True Love Is Blind] (by [](http://hamimifk.livejournal.com/profile)[**hamimifk**](http://hamimifk.livejournal.com/) )  
>  **Notes:** This is my first femslash fic and I'm quite fond of it. It was written for the [](http://hp-emofest.livejournal.com/profile)[**hp_emofest**](http://hp-emofest.livejournal.com/) to this prompt: _"Wind you up and make you crawl to me / Tie you up and make you call to me." [Louis XIV, Finding Out True Love Is Blind]_
> 
> Huge thanks to [](http://celestineangel.livejournal.com/profile)[**celestineangel**](http://celestineangel.livejournal.com/) for the beta. <3

"Tell me about your husband, Granger." Pansy smirked down at Hermione and wished she could take a wizarding photograph of the way the woman moved. She didn’t writhe or squirm the way some did, or arch or twist. She just moved, her heels digging into the bed and pushing her up a few centimeters, then down again. Then Pansy would shove her fingers deeper inside her, and Hermione would go up again. It was enchanting, if a little understated.

"You know I don't want to talk about him." Hermione frowned, and with her eyes closed she looked like a child having a bad dream.

Pansy hated the part of herself that wanted to soothe her, pet her, praise her. That wasn’t what _they_ were about.

"Tell me about his thick, long fingers, Granger. About how those calloused hands feel running over your body, touching you like he thinks you need to be touched." Braced on one elbow and leaning over Hermione, Pansy had the perfect view of how her comments were affecting Hermione. They were distracting her from her pressure, certainly, but also turning her against Pansy in small but measurable ways. Pansy couldn’t explain why she did it. She hated Ron Weasley more than any man she'd ever known, even Harry Potter, who she'd mostly forgotten about in time. It wasn’t even that Weasley had something Pansy didn’t; no, she didn’t even _want_ Hermione. It was that he could, that he fucking _dared_ to have something that Pansy didn’t.

Hermione opened her eyes. "Can you stop, Pansy? This isn’t about him." Her hand moved down to cover Pansy's, to encourage a softer movement, an easier slide.

Pansy obliged for a moment. She wanted to keep pressing, pressing inside Hermione's wet, gorgeous cunt and pressing her about her flaccid cock of a husband. It was a thin line they walked, and Pansy's delicate pure-blood feet were hardly made for tightropes.

Still, she pressed. "Just tell me one thing."

Hermione's lovely movements stopped and she looked up at Pansy, frustration written across her features. "Fine, but then finish me. You've had me on edge for an hour."

Pansy licked her lips and nodded. "Fair trade," she said. "I bet he makes you ride him almost every time, doesn’t he? I bet he's the fucking laziest fuck the world over."

Hermione took in a sharp breath and sat up, pushing Pansy's hand away, her fingers leaving Hermione's warmth so quick it must have hurt.

"What is your problem? Didn’t you _want_ this, with me? Didn’t you start this? And now all you want to talk about is _him_ , but I can't. I still love him. I'll always love him, Pansy."

Pansy waved her hand, Hermione's wetness making her fingers cool in the evening air. "Like I give a shit. I just don't get it, that's all. When you have me—" She waved her hand at herself, naked and pale and curved in a way she knew Hermione envied. "—Why you'd want him, I'll never understand."

With her arms crossed over her small breasts, Hermione stood, one hip jutted as she stared at Pansy.

In an instant, Pansy knew she had something to lose. She could see Hermione, as clear as day, years in the future while they still fucked but maybe not as often or as hard—and one day Hermione would come to her and say, 'no more'. Maybe because Weasley's slime had got her up the duff. Hermione was so damn perfect so of course she'd break it off with Pansy, and they'd see each other at work every day, with Hermione fucking fecund and glowing with huge tits and the baby inside her that Pansy would probably grow to hate more than Weasley in time.

"Just tell me you want me, too," Pansy said, affecting resignation. If she could get Hermione back to bed, she'd have her for another few months. Then she'd go from there. That's all she'd been doing for the past two years, anyway. There was no reason it shouldn’t continue to work. Though a part of Pansy knew things were different now, somehow, in a way she refused to examine.

Hermione, in all her innate goodness, softened. She returned to the bed, stretching herself out beside Pansy and touching her waist with light, reassuring fingers. "Of course I want you. God, of course I do. I don't even… understand the way that I want you." Hermione's face was earnest, as if it was almost a point of contention within herself that she enjoyed what they did, or maybe just the fact that it was with Pansy.

Hermione gripped Pansy's hip and pushed her over onto her back. Pansy grinned at her. _I've got you,_ she thought. For now.

Hermione leaned over Pansy, kissing her neck, which Pansy bared for her convenience, and caressing her tits. Hermione had been a quick study but still sometimes seemed a little surprised to be confronted with body parts that mirrored her own, in name if not in exact appearance. In her adorable, romantic way, Hermione was a great girlfriend. Pansy sighed as she kissed her way down Pansy's body, her tongue flicking Pansy's navel piercing and making them both smile. Hermione loved her piercings, even as they unnerved her.

Pansy opened her legs at Hermione's soft push at her inner thigh, and she propped a couple pillows under her shoulders so she could watch. The first time Hermione had gone down on her had been both the best and worst head of her life. The worst because Hermione had been pants at it and Pansy hadn’t wanted to give too much instruction because it had taken almost a year to even get Hermione into her bed in the first place, and the witch didn’t exactly take criticism well.

But it had been the best experience because it had meant Pansy had won. She'd beaten a Weasley, a Gryffindor, a member of the Golden Fucking Trio. Hermione wanted her, wanted to please her. She bet Weasley didn’t even get blowjobs. And in time Hermione had gotten _very_ good at what she did.

Hermione kissed Pansy's bare labia, staying away from her hole because she knew Pansy didn’t like anything inside her. With one hand under her head and the other in Hermione's hair—she'd forgone her beloved rings for just such a moment, that had to say something—Pansy let Hermione's tongue build her up, groaning when she stopped teasing and settled in at Pansy's clit, licking in quick and clean stokes. Hermione was very efficient.

"Fuck, Granger, you're so good at that," she said, her knees lifting and spreading without her direct knowledge. She rocked against Hermione's face, needing more all the time.

Hermione groaned against Pansy's cunt and Pansy smiled when she saw one of Hermione's hands disappearing below herself, moving in quick gestures to match her mouth.

Pansy held Hermione's head down, hard against herself. Hermione made little noises but still licking, faster and without pause. The hand not frigging herself slid over the curve of Pansy's hip and waist, grabbing and stroking, rough and soft.

"Close," Pansy gasped. She shut her eyes. She imagined Ron walking in, the door opening silently behind Hermione. She saw the look on his face, his freckles standing out in stark contrast as he went dead pale. Seeing his wife's perfect arse humping her own hand as she devoured Pansy's twat…

Hermione's tongue pressed hard against Pansy's clit and she came, crying out and jerking her hips up as her body tightened. Her heart hurt like she'd been holding her breath—and she swore it was not because that image could never come to pass because Hermione would never choose Pansy—and she made sure to breathe, relaxing and letting go of Hermione's hair.

Hermione kissed her inner thigh, the schoolgirl. Pansy sat up and pulled Hermione up to her knees as well. "I fucking love you," she whispered, and she didn’t look at Hermione's stunned and sad features, she just grabbed her face and kissed her as fierce as she ever had. Pansy snaked a hand between them and fingered Hermione hard and fast. It only took a moment to get her off, and Pansy's hand was drenched by the time Hermione cried out against Pansy's mouth.

They remained still for a time, just breathing, and for Pansy even that was difficult. She didn’t expect or even want Hermione to respond to her confession. It would kill to her know that Hermione did love her but still wouldn’t leave her husband. That would almost be worse than if Hermione didn't love her at all. Then they'd still get to fuck, at least.

Then Hermione leaned back, slid off the bed. "I have to get going," she said. She put on her skirt and blouse with perfect Hermione deftness. Pansy saw her lick her lips twice. She knew Hermione would be casting a cleansing spell before she walked in her front door.

"I know."

"See you at work, Pansy." She smiled, as always more behind her eyes than what came out of her mouth.

"Goodbye, then."


End file.
